Reunion
by Irymia
Summary: Shion and Nezumi meet again in another life. Post-canon.


Pain…

Nezumi gnashed his teeth against the ground he was lying on.

He had to stay conscious. He _needed_ to stay conscious right now; if he closed his eyes just for a second and let his head rest, he would die.

"Is he still alive?" a voice somewhere above asked lazily.

A foot bumped his back, sending explosions of pain through it. Nezumi moaned.

"He is. Clings to life like a rat."

The two voices burst into laughter. It pierced his body like transparent needles, juddering in his cochleae. His hand, stained with a disgusting mixture of dirt and blood, trembled as the fingers slowly but steadily balled into a fist.

He wouldn't die. He wouldn't give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing him die.

"Shall I finish him off?"

"Nah. He'll die by himself and some strays will surely appreciate the free meat, huh?"

"Let's go then. I can't stand the stench of a rotting rat."

"Don't forget his knife. He surely won't need it anymore, will he?"

The voices laughed again raucously.

Nezumi tasted blood on his tongue but had no strength to spit it out. Good thing he was lying on his abdomen, otherwise he would have choked on it.

From his position, Nezumi could only see a piece of muddy ground, but to see just this much, he was contending to keep his eyes open. Once you gave up and let your body relax even for a second, you were dead.

He didn't know if the guys who had beaten him up were still here in the alleyway, or if they had gone already. With his consciousness slowly dwindling away, he had stopped hearing, as if someone had covered him with a dome. Only the dull pain was throbbing in his head – dumm, dumm, dumm.

An image of one of the guys resurfaced in Nezumi's mind. The asshole was stout and narrow-foreheaded; Nezumi remembered his face the moment the theater administration announced that he was accepted, and the stout man was not. It was a countenance of resolute malice, one that was telling him, "it's not over yet. You're gonna pay for this". Never had Nezumi known though that, when the asshole decided to strike, he would bring a couple of his fit and swift friends along.

His eyelids began to close. The energy had left him, and his face contorted greatly as he struggled to remain conscious. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to lose.

"Mmm…"

Nezumi thought he had heard someone yell nearby, but it probably was just his weary imagination. The slits he had been seeing the ground through disappeared, and he slowly sank into beatific darkness.

* * *

"Dogs are so much better than humans."

Inukashi lolled his head into the hound's fur, clutching onto it with both his hands. Nezumi sniffed.

"I bet if you nicked a bone from a dog, it would chase after you just like any human."

He was referring to the salesman who had just been running after Inukashi because the latter had shoplifted a hunk of meat from him. He would have probably given the boy a good hiding, had the dog not sprung out and bared its teeth at the salesman, thus making him leave with cussing on his lips.

Inukashi shook his head, which was still buried in the hound's hair.

"No. Dogs aren't like that," he murmured, his voice muffled. "They… they can share. If a bitch sees a hungry puppy that has lost its mother, she'll let it suckle on her. But humans are different. They only care about themselves."

"Hm? Go live with dogs then."

Inukashi lifted his face, and the hound licked it, wagging its tail. He stroked its ear.

"I'd love to," he suddenly smiled. "You know, mom says maybe in a past life, I was a dog."

Nezumi had never met Inukashi's mother; he only knew she did laundry for other people for a living and worked day and night to make ends meet. She gave most of the food she could scrounge to her only child, and Inukashi had wanted to bring in that meat for her to eat.

The long-haired boy's eyes were still aglow, even dreamy somewhat. "Nezumi?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think… in my past life, do you think I was a dog?"

"I think it's baloney," Nezumi looked at the protuberant rocks on the ground beneath his feet. "Reincarnation is just a tale people made up to avoid facing the truth they don't like."

Inukashi's expression hardened.

"And you never thought reincarnation could _be_ the truth?" he pouted. "Has it never occurred to you that maybe you lived another life, a long time ago?"

Has it?.. Did he believe that people got reborn after they died? And that maybe, before this life, he might have had another one, in which he had lived, laughed, loved, loathed, and striven?

"No."

The dog yawned and lay down. Inukashi stared at it sulkily, no trace of excitement in his eyes left. Then, still not looking in Nezumi's direction, he spat, "Well, I have. Sometimes I see or hear somethin' and… well, I feel like I've seen or heard it before, but I can't remember where…"

"That's déjà vu. It has nothing to do with reincarnation."

Inukashi bared his teeth.

"Aren't you too young to know such fancy words?"

"Aren't you too young to steal?"

"Pfft, that wasn't for me, it was for mom."

Nezumi got up from the rubble they were sitting on. The dog twitched its ear.

"Huh?" Inukashi cast a glance at him. "Where are ya goin'?"

He was probably thinking that if Nezumi was heading to the market, he could follow him and try his luck again. Inukashi was easy to read.

Nezumi's hand fished something out of his pocket and tossed it at the other boy.

"Hey, what's thi—" he cut off when he saw it was some bread and dried fish wrapped in foil. His pupils dilated. "Huh?"

Nezumi spun away and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Your stomach is howling louder than a wolf pack. Stuff it with some grub if you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of your dogs."

Behind his back, Inukashi issued some sounds of amusement; the dog yipped happily, too.

"Well, thank y—" he began with a mouthful of bread.

"You owe me for this."

"Wait, what?"

Nezumi turned around and nailed his eyes on Inukashi's. "You were hungry. I gave you food. I didn't do that for free. Now if I ever need something, I will ask you to do that for me because you owe me."

Inukashi grimaced, springing up from his spot. "W-what? You didn't warn me about that!"

"Food is valuable in these places, and you are aware of that," Nezumi began walking away. "You accepted the food, you accepted the rules. Be ready, I might need you and your dogs to do something for me tomorrow or the day after."

"What?! You… you bastard! Sly fox!" the dog snarled along to Inukashi's crying.

Nezumi didn't look back.

Reincarnation…

He didn't believe in such nonsense, did he?

* * *

Black. Red. Blue. In here, colors didn't exist. Just nothingness. And falling.

Falling?

He felt like he was falling, but maybe he was ascending. Or suspended in the midair. Where was his body? He had no body, no mind, no essence…

Light. Dark. The feeling of unrest; he didn't know what to do. He knew he had to do something but didn't remember what it was, and his thoughts—if he only still had thoughts—were racing. He had to do it…

Do what?

Dark. Light. Gray. No difference.

Do it do it do it, do it! Do what?!

Nezumi's eyes shot open.

* * *

Something was tickling his arm. Tickle, tickle.

When his vision adjusted and he began to make out the outlines of his surroundings in the white blurriness, he saw it was a mouse. A small ashen mouse was inspecting his—half-bandaged?—arm carefully, and its whiskers were tickling his bare skin.

He was lying on his abdomen with his head turned to the left, Nezumi observed. He blinked as he eyed the little animal.

"Hm?"

The mouse turned its beady grape-colored eyes at him and chirruped, as if in greeting. Nezumi shifted his hand slightly and touched its short fur with his fingertips.

A mouse, huh. He hadn't seen mice in a while, mostly sewer rats in the dirty streets.

"You've woken up!"

Nezumi flinched, startled. He rolled on his back swiftly, intending to jump up and defend himself, but nausea-inducing pain racked through his body, immobilizing him. He gasped for air.

Why did it hurt so much? His back, his arms… like someone had boiled them in lead.

"Oh, I'm sorry to have startled you! Are you alright?"

A face hovered above him and in a single instant, Nezumi all forgot about his pain.

He saw purple-tinged eyes that were looking at him with solicitude, and snow-white hair that framed them. The stranger had probably seen something surprising in his face too, for his eyes widened greatly.

"Who are you?"

The boy blinked. "Huh?"

"Your name, you know? Or you don't have one?" Nezumi inquired sardonically. He hated the fact he couldn't get up right now and was lying all vulnerable in front of a stranger, so he might have put a bit more vitriol into his words than he had intended.

"Oh. I'm Shion."

Now Nezumi could see clearly that his hair indeed was white. Not in the way that the elderly's was, but it was the color of the ceiling above or the clouds in the sky on a sunny day.

"Like the flower?"

"Yes."

"And where am I, Shion?"

"Um… my house."

"Why?"

"Well, I found you in an alley… and you were lying there all bleeding so I brought you here to treat your injuries."

The manner in which Shion replied obediently gave Nezumi the off-kilter feeling they were sitting in a class, answering the teacher's questions.

In an alley? Bleeding?

A picture of the menacing-looking guy flashed through his mind. Oh, right. They had attacked him and then… He had given up. He had closed his eyes.

Nezumi inhaled deeply. He then jerked upright, clenching his teeth at the sharp pain that followed. His good hand looped around Shion's throat in the blink of an eye.

"W-wha—"

He squeezed his hand tighter.

"You brought me here, huh? How do I know you're not conspiring with the guys who beat me up?" Nezumi inclined his head to the side.

Shion was barely breathing under his grip, and Nezumi could feel his pulse with the hand. It was quickened.

"S-somebody… attacked you?"

"Hm? Yes, and I can't be sure you're not one of them."

Shion looked at him in confusion. "Well… I treated your wounds… why would I do that if I wanted to hurt you?"

They were looking straight into each other's eyes. Shion, who was having trouble breathing with Nezumi's hand on his throat, and Nezumi, who was struggling not to fall from pain and exhaustion.

Right. His arm was bandaged, and he also could feel bandages on his back and chest. Shion wasn't lying.

Nezumi's grip slackened, though he didn't let go.

"Why did you take me in?"

Shion blinked. "Because you had bruises and were unconscious…"

"And you just brought me here without dreading that I would rob you or kill you? Are you retarded?"

The purple eyes flickered. "I couldn't leave you to die there. I checked your breathing and figured you were still alive so I had to help you."

"If you wanted to help, you could call the ambulance, right?"

"Right…"

Nezumi lifted himself a bit and leaned in so that their noses almost touched.

"And why did you not?"

White, white hair, he had never seen such a color before. The big eyes now looked at him in… confusion?

"I… don't know," Shion answered at last. He swallowed.

Nezumi scowled. "You don't? You don't know why, instead of calling the ambulance for an unconscious stranger, as any sane person would have done, you took this stranger in?" his cunning voice was almost gentle, but his gaze remained harsh.

He wanted to know. Know why this weird-haired guy had brought him here and why, thanks to this guy, he was now alive even though he didn't deserve to be. He had given up, therefore, he ought to have died. This was his philosophy; this was what Nezumi believed in. Those who didn't care for themselves died. Survival of the fittest.

And yet… Shion had made sure that he lived.

Why?

"I have no idea why I didn't call the ambulance," Shion raised his gaze at him. "But what I do know is that you need to rest in order to get well," he took Nezumi by the wrist in a languid gesture and pulled his hand away from his throat. Their faces were still nose-to-nose to each other. "You have sustained serious injuries. Please lie down and don't exhaust yourself."

Before Nezumi realized it, he collapsed back into the sheets. His chest was going up and down rapidly.

Shion let go of his wrist and smiled. "Yes, like this. Thank you. Please wait, I'll bring you some broth, … umm… what's your name?"

The gray mouse cheeped happily when it saw he was back in the bed again, and Nezumi looked at it.

"Nezumi."

"Huh?" Shion saw the mouse too. "Oh, that one is called Hamlet. Looks like he likes you."

Nezumi blinked. "What? No, I was referring to my name. It's Nezumi."

He ran his fingertips through the mouse's fur. It was soft.

"Really?" Shion's head tilted to the side. "Well, thank you…"

"For goodness's sake, stop thanking me. If anything, I should be the one thanking you right now for saving my life."

"But I don't want to be rude…"

Nezumi gave an exasperated sigh. "You're hopeless."

"Mm-hmm. I'll go get the broth then!" Shion murmured and Nezumi heard his footsteps leaving the room. He closed his eyes for a moment.

Shion didn't know.

Someone else might think he was lying, but Nezumi was better at sensing deception than Inukashi, and he could tell Shion was being honest. He really didn't understand why he had taken him in instead of leaving the chore to the ambulance which might or might not have saved his life—depending on whether they decided he could pay for it after his recovery or not. His gashes had been disinfected and bandaged neatly while he was unconscious; he was resting on a clean bed in a laundered shirt—and why he had done all this for him, Shion did not know.

Nezumi wasn't oblivious. He knew that people didn't exercise gratitude often. They were ungrateful and took everything for granted, only wishing for more in their insatiable avarice. If they had land, they strove to have more land. If they came into a fortune, it only made them want to make more money off it. If they were given something, they only demanded more, never grateful for what they already had.

But Nezumi despised ingratitude. And even though he didn't think he deserved to have lived, he was grateful to Shion.

His eyes opened.

"Hamlet, huh?" he stroked the mouse's cheek.

"He's usually wary of strangers."

This time Nezumi was careful when turning to his left. Shion was standing at the bedside, and a vapor was steaming off of the bowl on the tray he was holding in his arms.

"And that's why you're not afraid I might steal from you. Because a small pet mouse isn't wary of me."

This remark didn't seem to have ruffled Shion at all. Instead, he smiled. "I know my mice only trust good people. If Hamlet can trust you, it means you're a good person. Right, Hamlet?"

The mouse ran up Shion's arm and perched on his shoulder. The boy placed the tray on the nightstand, and once he bent down to do so, an arm grabbed him by the collar deftly and pulled him down.

"N-Nezumi?" he saw the perplexity fleet across Shion's face.

"Don't ever do that." He pulled him down by the collar so that Shion's ear was a few inches away from Nezumi's lips.

"Do what? Nezumi, you—"

"Don't say you know someone when you only met him a couple of minutes ago," he wheezed dangerously. "Don't say you know that someone is a good or bad person just because you think he is. One can't even tell what kind of person he is himself; he can live his whole life figuring that out, and you think you can just throw those words around? You're an airhead."

Nezumi let go of his collar.

But Shion didn't straighten up. He turned his head a bit and Nezumi saw that a soft smile had graced his lips.

He blinked. "Why are you smiling?"

"Your heart. It's beating steadily," Shion pressed his ear to Nezumi's chest and listened carefully. "And your breathing is less shallow. You're convalescing."

Shion's smile grew wider as he lifted his upper body from Nezumi's bosom. His white hair shifted a bit from the movement, and Nezumi found himself mesmerized by it.

This boy was… weird.

"Please have this misoshiru. I hope you like it. It will help you get even better."

Nezumi just stared at him. "Were you even listening?"

"Oh. Yes," Shion glanced off to the side. "I guess you're right… I can't judge people by first impressions…"

"Great. You don't know me, and you most likely never will so stop caring about me."

He sat up on the bed, brushing Shion's hand off as it rushed toward him to support, and placed the tray on his lap as he began eating.

"Nezumi?"

"What?"

"How's my soup? I don't normally cook often so—"

"It's awful."

Shion scratched his nape defeatedly. "…Oh."

"The worst misoshiru I've ever tried. I hope you don't cook for your mice, otherwise it's a miracle they've lived for so long."

Shion chuckled. "No, they prefer my mom's pastry."

Nezumi ate quickly. He suddenly found himself very hungry, and he didn't know how much time he had spent on this bed without a morsel.

"But for a newbie," Nezumi smirked, meeting Shion's confused gaze, "it's actually not that bad, you know."

"Really?" Shion's face lightened up. "Thank you!"

"For what, insulting your cooking?

They both laughed, and Nezumi thought he hadn't laughed like this in years. At the same time, a strange feeling—as though this had already happened to him before—crossed his chest for a brief moment, and then it was gone.

What was it?

He was positive he had never met Shion before, and yet…

The misoshiru had warmed him up, and Nezumi lay back in the bed.

He was supposed to have died. He ought not to have lived, not after he'd given up and allowed the unconsciousness to envelop him in its tempting embrace. But here he was, alive, in a clean room—all due to the kindness of a weird stranger with splendid white hair.

Two more mice scurried up the sheets and greeted him with their squeaking. Shion was somewhere in the kitchen, doing the dishes, and the sunlight was falling on the bed from the window. It felt strangely familiar yet alien, but nonetheless comfortable, and for once, Nezumi allowed himself to relax in its warm rays.

He would take revenge on those guys… he might even ask Inukashi for help, once he got better, he thought to himself lazily… but for now, he was so cozy in the house of this strange boy named after a flower, that he let himself close his eyes, sinking into nothingness again. His whole body felt weak and reality was slipping away slowly.

Odd, unknown words escaped his dry lips—words he didn't know the meaning of but was sure he had heard them somewhere before—and lingered in the air.

"Reunion has come, Shion."

In the kitchen, Shion flinched a bit, rubbing a bowl with a block of soap and thinking about the peculiar gray-eyed stranger he had saved today. Then, he smiled for no reason and looked out the window.

There, sakura blossoms were floating, and the sun shone brightly.


End file.
